


If it's journeys you dream, would you dream them with me?

by Eyp



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Found Family, I don't know what else to tag, Luke is slowly restoring the Jedi Order and Din helps, M/M, Post-Chapter 16, Slow Burn, Travelling together, more tags to come as this story develops, questionable understanding of force powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyp/pseuds/Eyp
Summary: “You have nothing going on at the moment, “ Cara pushes on bluntly, still talking as if Luke wasn’t right there in the room with them. “You could take him back to the Republic, make sure he gets there safe. Maybe even get a chance to see the kid again.”There’s a warm, sudden spike of hope in the Force coming from the Mandalorian, shining through a tangle of doubts and hesitance.Still, he’s not really expecting the man to nod, turn towards him and say: “I can do it. If you let me.”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 139





	1. I meant to find you

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due: the title is a line from the song "Atlantica" by Pekoe.   
> That beautiful song reminds of me of Luke and Din a lot, and it was while listening to it that this story began to take form in my mind.

Luke feels the storm-like pulse of _danger_ simmering through the Force, like a shiver under his skin, when it’s already too late. 

The thrumming sensation had been tightening around his throat ever since he got into the x-wing. Unable to pinpoint it, grasping at the edges of the vague warning from the Force, there was nothing to do but move forward. 

Now, surrounded by ships pointing their weaponry at him, the threat seems obvious. The small chance of flying past them vanishes when he notices the controls of the x-wing are not working properly and Artoo’s not responding.

He's on his own.

All at once, blasts of hot-searing energy coming from different directions are fired at him, and in the center of the chaos he has little time to reach through the Force with all the energy he has left and hope, silently, sending an “I love you,” to his sister before he holds and _pulls_.

For a split second the frayed circuits of the x-wing are whole again and thrumming with the same energy that pulses within each living creature in the universe, and Luke fuels it all in one stroke of desperate need, pulling the edges of all he knows and sees and feels around him in a protective shield that will hopefully be enough. 

As the x-wing lurches and jumps into hyperspace he bites back the bitter taste of fear, feeling the energy around him splintering at the edges. He’s faintly aware of the lights of warning, of the sounds and alarms blaring. There’s pain too, and he remembers some of the blasts hitting the wings of the ship right before the jump. 

He knows he needs to breathe, to center himself, but it’s hard to do so with the pain on his side and the nausea rolling in his gut as he tries to get a grip of the reality around him. The power in him seeps out of his core like a current that pulls too strongly and the energy he used to get this far starts slipping quickly through his shaking hands. He holds onto the controls and pulls once more, forces himself to get rid of the doubts and the rising panic quickly, swiftly.

And he knows that the effort put into ridding yourself of fear must not be underestimated, but there’s not time, no choice. 

He _feels_ the planet before seeing it, and gives the last pull in that direction, willing his broken x-wing to move once more.

***

As he plummets from the sky, he sees a city. 

And then, the moment right before losing consciousness, the Force quiets and stills around him as something warm blossoms in his chest. It lasts less than a second but, right then, he feels safe. 

***

It’s not the first time Luke has awoken disoriented in an unfamiliar place, but it’s been a while since it last happened and he feels a rush of bitter panic rising in his throat. 

He’s wearing a clean gray robe and he notices the pressure of bandages across his torso and around one of his arms. 

A patch of golden sunlight filters through a high window. It falls partially on the white sheets of the bed he’s lying on, warming his feet. He sits up, slowly, and extends a hand towards the sun. 

It’s then when he notices. 

The synthetic skin from his prosthetic hand is gone, leaving the silvery material of its robotic design exposed. It looks normal at a simple glance, but upon closer inspection the signs of blunt trauma and damaged circuits are visible. 

Slowly, he tries stretching his fingers. They twitch, uselessly, and a dull sensation of pain travels up his arm. 

This is certainly not ideal. 

With an exhale, he closes his eyes, pushes his worries away and carefully extends his senses beyond the space around him. There’s the the buzzing and vibrant life of a city. Different kinds of people with their joys and sorrows, no immediate sense of danger or malice in any of them. 

A wave of wariness falls over him and his tentative hold on the Force shakes with it. He feels wrung out, as if all the energy had been squeezed from his body and recognizes it as the result of the overexertion he put himself through while, quite literally, _forcing_ his x-wing to move.

But at least something in him knows, with absolute certainty, that wherever he is, he’s safe.

To his right, someone clears their throat. 

Luke opens his eyes.

There’s a woman standing under the now open door of the room. It takes him a second, but he recognizes her with a start. 

She was by the Mandalorian’s side when he picked Grogu from that imperial ship four months ago.

“Feeling better?” she asks, leaning against the door frame. 

“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out croaky and low. 

“Ah, wait, I’ll bring you some water.” She turns and leaves before he can answer but comes back in less than a minute, holding a cup that she promptly hands over to him. “Here. Drink up.”

As he does, she sits on a chair next to his bed and crosses her arms. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I, uh, don't think we were introduced before? I’m Luke—”

“Skywalker, yes, I know,” she interrupts with a tilted smile. “I’m Cara Dune, Marshal of Nevarro.” 

“Oh. _Oh,_ that’s… that’s good. Nevarro, uh? Never been before. Apologies for—” He waves a hand vaguely.

“Crashing a few miles away from the city and scaring the shit out of everyone who saw?” 

Luke winces. “Well. Yes, that.” 

Cara’s smile widens. “Well, I’m sure after saving the galaxy and all that you’re allowed to crash into a few planets without warning as long as you don’t hurt anyone in the process.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “Good, I was planning on hitting four other planets in the nearby future.”

“Is Senator Organa gonna approve that, though?” Cara asks, eyebrows lifting. 

In a flash, Luke remembers the minute before the crash and the message he sent to Leia through the Force.

“Shit.”

“She was _pissed_.”

“What do you—is she here?” he asks, his voice raising.

“No, no, she wanted to come but we managed to convince her you were safe and sound.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair. 

On the good side, he made it out of that whole mess alive.

On the bad side, Leia is probably going to kill him.

“Thank you for, well, everything,” he says, turning to rest his back against the wall. It feels cool and pleasant through the fabric of the robes he wears. “Can you tell me… what happened, exactly? I don’t remember much past trying to head to the closest place to land.” 

“And land you did. There’s not much to tell. Many saw the ship coming down the sky and when we went to check, we found you bloodied and unconscious in the middle of a crushed x-wing, brought you here, made sure you were patched up and not dying. That’s about it.”

“And my droid? Did you…”

“Found it. It’s power was off when we picked it, it’s with our techs now.”

“If it’s not much trouble, could you tell them not to—um, I’d like to fix him myself,” he says.

She gives him a puzzled look. “Sure, I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you. I’m still… disoriented. How long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

“And, Leia—”

“I tried to contact her right away but bureaucracy is a pain in the ass. I explained the situation clearly but I only got to talk to her directly yesterday,” she shrugs, “you know how it is.”

Luke sighs and offers a tired smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Cara’s coms beep loudly in the relative quiet of the room. “I gotta take this,” she says, standing, “just wait here for a minute.” 

He nods, and watches her leave. 

And he’s ready to lie face down on the bed and feel sorry for himself for just a few moments, when he hears Cara’s voice again right outside the room as a new set of footsteps approaches.

“Mando, good timing. He’s awake now—keep him company, will you? Catch up. I’ll be back soon.”

“Dune, what…? _Wait—_ ”

He recognizes that voice. 

The memories Grogu had shared with him flood into his mind like a wave of images and sensations and feelings that are overwhelming in their clarity. And it’s the last push needed to make him stumble into all the tiredness of the effort used before the crash, his grip on his connection with the Force slips unsteadily as his awareness makes everything grow too loud, too _present_ — 

He presses his left hand against his eyes. It is not the first time this has happened. 

Then, the door opens. 

For a few seconds, silence hangs heavily in the air. 

And then— 

“Are you alright?” he hears the Mandalorian’s voice coming from the entrance. His presence is a distinct glow of life and warmth in the Force and Luke’s already reaching far and beyond, his power ebbing back and forth as he tries to reign it in. The man’s feelings stand out sharply; worry, uncertainty, wariness—

“Yes, just…” Luke forces himself to say, waving his free hand in the direction of the Mandalorian’s voice and keeping the other pressed against his eyes. “Nausea. Give me a moment.” 

“Is there anything—?” 

“No,” he cuts in. “No, just. A moment. Please.”

He breathes in and out, hears the chair next to the bed being pulled close to the opposite wall. And silence again. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for him to will his power to go back to the steady, comforting flow he has grown accustomed to. Around him, the Force quiets with an enveloping sense of safety and Luke remembers feeling something similar right before the crash. 

Slowly, he lets his hands drop to his lap. 

“Sorry about that,” he says, finally looking up, eyes meeting the visor of the beskar helmet that covers the Mandalorian’s face. “This is not how I was expecting our next meeting to go.”

The man doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Can’t say I disagree.”

Luke takes a breath. “I understand if you’re worried, or mad at me, even. I assure you he’s okay—Grogu, I mean. He’s in good hands, I left him in the care of the person I trust the most in the entire universe.”

The Mandalorian inclines his head, gloved fingers interlocking. “I know. I was on the call when Cara contacted Senator Organa. The kid was with her.”

“Oh,” Luke says, and then something warm and happy stirs in his chest. He can’t contain a smile. “Wait, did _he_ see you then?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I could’ve been there. He has missed you greatly,” he explains, leaning back to rest his head on the wall and closing his eyes for a moment. He tries to imagine Grogu’s reaction, the excitement and the happiness shining through his connection with the Force, his little hands reaching forward from the hologram towards the man who cared for him for so long. 

Across from him, the Mandalorian is silent. Luke feels the urge to speak more, to ease the worry and unease he felt from him mere seconds ago, but he bites his tongue and waits instead. 

“He… he looked well. The kid,” the man mutters quietly, his gaze on his hands. “I wasn’t expecting to see him anytime soon.”

“I meant to find you,” Luke says, words tumbling out of his mouth with an unexpected weight that pulls and pushes in a rush of earnest determination. “I was planning to.” 

He didn’t mean to explain it quite like that.

The Mandalorian looks up at him and Luke can feel the surprise and the confusion behind that featureless gaze.

“You were?”

“Yes. I… this is on me. When we meet, the situation was not—” he stops and considers. The tension, the fear, the will to fight and protect and _demand_ , the anger and resentment, were all feelings permeating the air in the imperial cruiser where they had met. It had been hard to determine whose presence was projecting what and easy to decide that this was not a situation he should linger in. That, mixed with the fact that the kid who had called to him, the kid strongly connected to the Force, looked so much like his old master, hadn’t been much help to keep his head clear and level. “I should’ve explained better, back then. I was planning on finding a way to contact you and let you know where to find us.”

There’s another stretch of silence. The patch of sunlight from the window has moved, slowly, falling now on Luke’s knee, where his prosthetic hand rests. The Mandalorian’s gaze drops to it briefly before he speaks. “I thought—someone told me that wouldn’t be possible. That Jedi don’t allow themselves to have attachments.” 

Luke follows the man’s gaze. He feels the urge to pull his hand close to his chest, unders his robes. He feels it, ignores it, and thinks of his father. 

Attachments. Anakin’s downfall.

If only it were as simply as that. 

“That was one of the teachings of the old Jedi Order,” he explains, looking up to find the visor directed at him. In his mind, he consciously makes an effort not to recall how the face behind the helmet looked like. Still, he remembers his eyes and the sorrow that filled them when he parted with the child. “I don’t particularly agree with it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he pauses, holding back a sigh, “I don’t think traditions should be kept only for the sake of holding onto old history if they’re not serving us as intended anymore. Besides, it would be hypocritical of me, to preach detachment when I myself have people I love dearly and many connections I have no intention to sever.”

He can’t tell if he’s going to get an answer or not but, around him, something in the Force curls and tightens with anticipation.

Then there’s a knock and the door opens and Cara steps inside, “So, good news: no one has touched your droid yet,” she says as she walks up to lean against the wall next to where the Mandalorian is sitting. “I hope I’m not too late.” 

“Late to what?” the man asks.

“To the retelling of whatever the hell happened before the crash, obviously,” she says, her eyes moving to Luke’s. “So?”

Luke’s gut reaction is to tell them. To describe what happened as he remembers it and spare them the less palatable details.

But he can almost feel her sister’s stare across the galaxy when he opens his mouth. 

He closes it again.

“I’m… I’m sorry, but I think it’s best if I spoke with my sister first.”

Cara looks down at the Mandalorian for a second, but his gaze remains on him, helmet slightly tilted to the side. 

“It is my duty to keep this city safe,” she says then, “so I need to know if you being here is a danger for us in any form.” 

He keeps his face impassive, holding her gaze with a calm he doesn't feel. 

“I understand, but I don’t think you have to worry about—”

“You don’t _think_ —” Cara repeats, interrupting him. She rolls her eyes. “I need you to be _certain_ of it. If you’re not, you have to tell us.” 

And he’s about to say something. He doesn’t know what, not yet, but his lips part and the beginnings of a word make it past his throat.

The Mandalorian beats him to it. 

“Cara,” he says, turning his helmet to look up at her. “He just woke up. Give him a minute.” 

“What if we don’t have a minute—”

“You do,” Luke cuts in, loud enough to get them both to turn their heads towards him sharply. “But you’re right,” he adds, his eyes on Cara’s pinched expression. “I don’t want to cause unnecessary panic because I might be wrong about it, but if it’s only so you can keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary then…” he sighs, leaning more heavily against the wall behind him. “There isn’t much to tell. I was ambushed but luckily I managed to escape in time and made it here. And—I think they might have been imperial remnants. But I can’t say for certain.” 

He doesn’t need to connect to the Force to notice the sudden wave of _worry_ that fills the room. The air is heavy with it. From the Mandalorian’s direction, a surge of protectiveness lights up with such a sudden intensity Luke feels almost disoriented when is quickly tampered to near extinction a mere second later. 

“How can you be sure they didn’t follow?” Cara asks.

“I don’t think they expected me to be able to make the jump,” he explains, allowing himself a small smile. “They used a blast that messed with my ship’s control system, I shouldn’t have been able to move it at all.”

“But you did,” the Mandalorian asserts.

Luke nods. “I probably should go back soon and inform my sister about this.” He lifts up his arm, motioning to his right hand. “And get this working again.”

“Sorry we can’t help more with that,” Cara offers.

“It's alright. It’s stable enough, at least, so it shouldn't be a problem to fly like this,” he pushes himself off the wall and to the edge of the bed, letting his legs hang and his feet touch the cold tiled floor. “Do you have a ship I could borrow? I promise I’ll get it back to you soon.”

“What?” the Mandalorian asks.

“What?” Luke repeats, confused.

“You shouldn’t fly if you’re injured.” 

Luke looks down at his hand, the metallic workings of it exposed and cold. He tries flexing his fingers again. They twitch.

“It’s not that bad,” he says, because it really isn’t, and because he has piloted in worse conditions. 

The Mandalorian turns to look at Cara but she only shrugs. 

“To be honest, Mando, if there’s someone who could handle it, it would be him.”

Eager to ease the ambience, Luke hurries to add: “And if I can be given some tools to fix my droid then I can leave most of the piloting to him.”

The Mandalorian tenses minutely and Cara lets out of scoff. 

“That’s not helping your case,” she says. “Why don’t you ask your sister to send someone to get you?”

Luke thinks of Leia, handling politicians left and right, of their trusted friends, spread thin on the places where they’re needed, of the two days he spent unconscious, unmoving. He shakes his head. “I’d rather not. Leia has enough on her plate as it is.”

The Mandalorian stands up. Momentarily, his tall figure gets in the way of the sunlight filtering through the window. With warm light behind him, shining on the outer lines of his armor, he cuts an imposing figure. 

However, his voice is quiet when he speaks. “I’ll see about getting the tools you need. For your droid”

“Thank you,” Luke says, smiling up at him. 

“Wait,” Cara interjects, pushing herself off the wall. “Why don’t you take him?”

The man turns to her, helmet tilted, and Luke brow furrows.

“What?” they say at the same time. 

Cara crosses her arms, eyebrows raised. “You heard me. That way, you make sure he makes it back safe, maybe even get a reward for your trouble.”

“I don’t think—” Luke sputters, realization dawning on him.

“You have nothing going on at the moment, “ Cara pushes on bluntly, still talking as if Luke wasn’t right there in the room with them. “You could take him back to the Republic, make sure he gets there safe. Maybe even get a chance to see the kid again.” 

There’s a warm, sudden spike of _hope_ in the Force coming from the Mandalorian, shining through a tangle of doubts and hesitance. 

Still, he’s not really expecting the man to nod, turn towards him and say: “I can do it. If you let me.” 

And he knows then, that he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

He thinks back to Grogu and his big saddened eyes when he reached out with tiny hands to touch Luke’s cheeks and show him his memories. He thinks of the man in front of him, his stoic exterior and weariness he carries within.

He would never deny them this, not if the possibility is in his hands.

“I… well—” he starts, trying to find the words. “That would be—I mean, of course.” He watches the man’s shoulders drop slightly with an exhale. Something in his chests twists and he hurries to add: “I think I would be good for the child. To see you again.”

The Mandalorian nods, stiffly, his gaze still on Luke’s. “I’ll go see if my ship’s repairs are done,” he says.

And then he leaves. 

When he looks back at Cara, her eyes are still on the door and she looks overly pleased with herself. “It will be good for him too,” she says quietly. 

Luke wants to ask, but he knows it’s not his place to pry. “Thank you,” he says instead.

Cara inclines her head slightly, fingers tapping distractedly where they rest on her hip. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes.” 

“And… my saber?”

She fetches something from a back pocket and tosses him a small key. “There,” she says, pointing at the narrow cabinet next to the bed. “Bottom drawer. Stay here, I’ll be back soon.”

And as he is left alone in the room once more, he feels that same hope that blossomed in the Mandalorian’s core mere moments ago taking root in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, my knowledge of Star Wars lore is tenuous at best. I'm familiar with the two first trilogies and with the Mandalorian, but that's it. That means, I'll be making a lot of stuff up as I go and ignoring the canon when I need to, because, you know, this is mostly a self-indulgent story.
> 
> I can't promise regular updates, but I'll do my best to not take too long between chapters. I do have an outline for this so I know where it's going, at least. 
> 
> I'd love to know what you think of it so far! And thanks for stopping by.


	2. Tatooine, you said?

Luke stands next to the Mandalorian as the ramp to board his ship slowly descends. 

“VCX-100?” he asks.

“Not quite.”

“Modified model?”

The Mandalorian nods. “Yes, but not by me.” 

The ramp finally touches the ground and Luke turns to look at Cara and Greef Karga, who he had met shortly after seeing to the repairs of Artoo. He kindly had provided him what he needed for the journey, allowing him to use his transmitter to send an encrypted message to his sister explaining the situation. 

“Safe travels,” says the Magistrate. “I’ll keep an ear out for anything that might be of your interest, Mando, so don’t be a stranger.”

The Mandalorian nods in acknowledgment. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you again for your hospitality,” Luke adds as he bows his head, “May the force be with you.”

“Just keep us updated if there’s anything we should know,” Cara remarks. 

“Will do.” 

As they turn around to walk back towards the city, Luke follows the Mandalorian into the ship, with Artoo trailing close behind. The ramp leads straight into a central hallway with a curved ceiling where their footsteps echo as they move further in. They stop in front of two doors that face each other, leading to opposite rooms. 

“You can sleep here,” the Mandalorian says, opening the door to the right. “Further down you’ll find rations and a food synthesizer, if you’d prefer that. The fresher’s at the door to the left at the very end.”

“Thank you”, he says, leaning in to look into his quarters. It’s a simple room, equipped with a bed and not much else. “Artoo can help with the calculations for the jump, if you’d like.” 

Luke can sense a sudden spike of apprehension and is expecting an immediate refusal but, instead, the man merely looks down at his droid for a moment, hesitant. “I… appreciate the offer, but I’d rather do that myself.”

“Of course,” he says, smiling. Artoo beeps and turns around, sweeping past them before entering what will now be his room. Luke rolls his eyes. “Sorry, he has a penchant for dramatics.”

“It's fine. I don’t understand binary, anyway.”

“Good thing, he has no manners or whatsoever.”

There’s a pause, and Luke doesn’t need to be force-sensitive to know there’s a question weighing on the Mandalorian’s mind. Something unsaid.

Still, he’s not quite ready for it when, after a sigh, he finally speaks again. 

“If you don’t mind,” he starts, helmet tilting to the side as his visor finds Luke’s eyes. “I need to make a stop before we set out to Chandrilla. It’ll only add a day to the journey.”

“That’s no problem,” Luke says, leaning his back against the wall. “Where are we headed first, then?”

“Tatooine,” the man answers, of all things. 

And Luke, with all his training, all his hours of meditation and all the won battles etched in his skin, still falters. Still forgets himself long enough for the Mandalorian to tilt his helmet and ask, “Are you alright?”

He recovers his smile and laces his fingers, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. Tatooine, you said?”

“...Is there a problem?”

He wishes he could explain. Is there a problem? No, not really. But he hasn’t been in Tatooine in years, and he isn’t sure his short trip to rescue Hand Leia really counted as a proper visit.

He has not been actively avoiding to come back—there’s never been a reason to. But to himself at least, when the nights are quiet and long, he can admit that at some point he started feeling a _pull_ towards the barren land that watched him grow. And he can admit to ignoring it, every time.

“No. I just… I haven’t been there in a while,” he answers, shrugging. “It’s where I grew up.”

If the Mandalorian is intrigued, he doesn’t show it. “I see. I promise it will be only for a short while.” 

“It’s fine. I was taken by surprise, that’s all.” 

At this point, Artoo slides out of the room and heads down the hall, ignoring them both. 

“I’ll go set the course then, we’ll make the jump soon” the Mandalorian says, before turning around the opposite direction and disappearing behind the door leading to the cockpit.

Luke lets his shoulders drop and follows Artoo down the hall. 

***

The ship is spacious enough to hold a small crew. It reminds him a bit of the Millenium Falcon, with his circular central area and round table. He’d feel like he’s intruding, going anywhere past that, so he ends up going back to his room to settle for the journey. 

The thing is, there’s not much to do. He’s only carrying a small bag with the clothes and items they provided for him in Nevarro, and although he’s used to travel light, right now he itches for something to do, not wanting to stay still and notice the way his thoughts go back towards their destination in an endless cycle.

For a while, he entertains himself when he finds his room is not as spare as it looked at first glance. There’s different sorts of foldable furniture mounted on the walls. There are two seats and a small square table on a corner, a row of shelves on different levels opposite to the bed, a small rectangular ledge that could be used as a night table and a couple of drawers that are also embedded in the wall.

In the bottom drawer, he finds a small pouch with something inside that clinks softly when the drawer opens. Curious and grateful for the distraction, he crouches down and carefully opens the pouch. Inside, he finds a handful of small steel marbles, all identical in size. With a smile, he thinks that maybe they could be used to practice simple Force control exercises, pulls the string to close to pouch and pushes the drawer back into the wall to leave everything as he found it. 

With nothing else in his hands, he lies back on the bed and rolls to one side. Going to the cockpit to try and engage the Mandalorian in conversation is a tempting option, but something tells him that right now the man needs time and space. 

And Luke, thankfully, has learned that patience is worth the effort. 

Without meaning to, he ends up falling asleep and wakes up some time later feeling disoriented and thirsty. He finds Artoo silently stationed at the foot of the bed.

“How long was I out?” he asks, but Artoo is unable to give him a definite answer. He stretches and rubs a hand down his face, trying to shake out the grogginess as he stands up. 

The distance from Nevarro to Tatooine through hyperspace shouldn’t amount to more than a number of hours, since they’re both in the outer rim and belong to the same sector. So he can only hope most of that distance was covered during his nap. 

And there it is again. The thought of his home planet making him feel restless and unsettled. He shakes his head and decides that maybe some food will do him some good. A food synthesizer had been mentioned—that could be fun to try. 

That’s why half an hour later, the Mandalorian finds him sitting in the common area, on a circular couch that hugs the curved wall opposite to where the ship’s galley is. “We’re about to jump out of hyperspace,” he informs, his voice trailing off when he catches sight of Artoo, who’s plugged into the kitchen terminal. “What is it doing?”

“Thanks for the warning,” Luke says, glancing down at his droid. “Artoo’s trying to see what’s wrong with the food synthesizer. I... I hope you don’t mind? I should have asked beforehand but—”

“No, it’s fine,” the man interrupts, shaking his head. “But I can get it fixed in the place where we’re going.”

And then he’s turning around and going back to the cockpit. 

And for a split second Luke forgets he’s supposed to practice patience. 

“Wait,” he calls, standing up. “Is it okay if I join you?” 

He feels uncharacteristically anxious and oddly vulnerable right there and then. It’s not something he has a problem with, he has never been one to shy away from voicing his feelings and thoughts, but right now, his own long held denial of a feeling left ignored for too long is pushing him to the edge of a kind of uncertainty he’s not used to. 

“If you want to,” the Mandalorian answers after a brief pause, nodding and waiting for him to start walking before continuing towards the cabin. 

In the cockpit, small green and red lights blink dimly on the main panel and through the windows the blue swirling lines of hyperspace expand beautifully around them. 

The mandalorian takes the pilot’s seat, his hands sure and steady on the controls. Luke settles on the co-pilot's seat, a little behind and off to the side, breathing in and out as he counts the second left to the jump. In silence, he watches the space outside unfurl in a dizzying pattern, opening up to reveal a dark sky patterned with stars and in the center, a sole planet, a brown expanse of land with spots of faded red and gold. 

“Where in Tatooine are we going?” he asks, but before the Mandalorian can offer an answer, the ship’s coms light up and a voice comes through.

“This is Mos Eisley tower, we're tracking you. Head for bay 3-5.”

“Copy that,” the Mandalorian says before turning to look at him over his shoulder. “That—” He starts but stops immediately as his attention falls on Luke, and Luke doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, but it’s clear enough for the man to pick up on it and say: “Listen, you don’t need to leave the ship if you don’t want to. I promise it’ll be quick.”

Luke leans heavily against his seat, peeling his eyes off his home planet to look at how the lights from the control panel reflect on the Mandalorian’s helmet, painting one side of it with soft blurry hues. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s—well. It’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to,” the man says, turning back to guide the ship forward.

Luke nods, grateful, and says nothing. 

***

When the ramp of the ship is still descending, he hears a woman’s voice coming from down below. 

“Well, look who decided to show up!” 

“Nice seeing you too,” the Mandalorian answers as they walk down together, Luke staying a few feet behind with Artoo. 

Only when his feet are on firm ground he lets himself take in their surroundings. Metal crates pile up next to a repair station, with tools and different kinds of equipment scattered around. Old junk from a variety of machinery and dismantled ships forms an unsteady pile across the way, next to a more orderly pile that a couple of pit droids seem to be trying to sort. 

A woman with curly hair and a lopsided smile approaches, hands on her hips. “Took you long enough. So how’s the Shadow’s Edge working for you?” she asks, her expression shifting to amused surprise when she finally notices Luke’s presence. “Taking passengers again? I thought you said—Wait,” she stops, taking a moment to look at him, _really_ look at him, and Luke can see the recognition clearing her expression. “Why do you look familiar, boy?”

“Hey, don’t interrogate my passenger” the Mandalorian cuts in, not unkindly, still gaining a frown from the woman. “This is Peli Motto, she manages this hangar and does mostly decent repair work.”

The woman—Peli, huffs indignantly and for a heartbeat Luke finds himself tongue-tied, noticing what the man is doing. He’s deflecting for him, handing him the option of silence without making him bear the awkwardness of it.

And it’s… grounding. Comforting. It helps, so he takes a breath and smiles. “I’m Luke,” he says, and he catches himself just in time before extending his injured hand forward. “I used to live here years ago, so maybe you saw me around.”

“Yeah, that must be it,” she says, turning her attention to him again. “Mos Pelgo?”

He holds his breath for a moment and can feel Artoo bumping softly against his leg.

“Not quite, but we lived in a moisture farm close to it.”

Luke can see the recognition descending upon her face. 

“Wait… you don’t mean the Lars family, do you?”

He tries for a smile and nods. “Yes, my aunt and uncle.”

Instantly, her expression turns apologetic and sad, and Luke doesn’t resent her for it, doesn’t blame her, but it’s still hard to see. 

“I’m sorry, boy, they were good people.”

“Yes,” he agrees easily, “they were.” 

And as he notices that the Mandalorian’s attention turning to him, it also dawns on him that this is possibly the first time he has talked with anyone who knew them since he left Tatooine. It’s the first time he heard those words, coming from someone who really has something to base them on. 

“Well,” Peli says, clearing her throat, “let’s talk business then?” she asks the Mandalorian, who turns to her.

“Lead the way,” he sais, and then, to Luke: “We’ll be back in a moment.”

They walk away and he’s left alone with Artoo in the middle of the hangar. 

Artoo beeps softly by his side. 

“Thank you, buddy,” he mutters, feeling drained and unbalanced. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

And at last, he takes a deep breath and allows himself to really look around. Past the hangar and towards the horizon, were the barren lands of Tatooine extend indefinitely under its two suns.

Despite how much he always longed to leave, despite his yearning to see more of the galaxy, he always loved the sunsets here. Even if back then he was reluctant to admit it. Now, he takes in the colors of the sky as the two stars follow their consistent pattern above, and wishes to see one of those twilights once more. 

And he wonders if this wave of nostalgia is the explanation to that feeling. The feeling that was very much like a gravitational pull, drawing him in towards—

Towards what? His past? His memories? 

Regardless, he stays there, breathing in the dry air as the chill air of the late afternoon rises goosebumps on the back of his neck. 

He doesn’t wait for long, it must be only ten minutes later that the Mandalorian returns. Peli walks straight to the junk pile and starts ordering around the pit droids, kicking a rusty piece of metal off the way as she approaches her repair station. 

It is then that he comes to a decision, and speaks up before he starts to regret it.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling his heart hammering inside of his chest. “Do you have a speeder I could borrow?”

***

It turns out, Peli does have a speeder bike. It’s somewhere close to the dismantled machinery parts, stationed next to another speeder that’s half crushed and torn. 

“I don’t suppose that one is working?” he asks, pointing to the somewhat destroyed vehicle. 

Peli just laughs at him. 

He walks up to the functional looking one and places his gloved hand on the grip to give it a tentative twist. 

A jolt of pain travels up his arm and he hisses, taking a step back. He knows the Mandalorian is close by, looking at him, and can pick up on the hesitancy building up right under a layer of calm. When Luke turns to face him he doesn’t turn his gaze away. No pretense. 

“This one will do,” Luke says, hand resting on the seat. 

“Why were you asking about that one?” the man asks, pointing to the crushed bike with a tilt of his helmet.

Luke sighs and folds his fingers carefully.

“Because I was hoping you would come with me,” he replies, honestly.

And again, there probably was a better way to say that, but coming back to Tatooine has left him feeling a little raw and a little frayed at the edges, and he doesn’t have the energy to thread words more cautiously than that. 

Also, something tells him the Mandalorian is the kind of person who appreciates straightforwardness.

There’s a pause, and Luke deliberately avoids sensing his surroundings, not wanting to gauge the reaction by the Force but only by what he will hear him say. 

The Mandalorian glances back at Peli, who’s a few steps behind studiously looking at some useless scrap of metal, pretending not to be eavesdropping. It makes Luke smile. 

“Where to?” the man asks. 

“South from here, northeast from Mos Pelgo.”

“Maybe they’ll have another dragon for you to kill,” Peli says, dropping all pretense. 

Luke frowns, confused. “What?”

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “Nothing. I’ll go with you, but I’m driving.”

“Oh. But I can—”

“Your hand is still giving you trouble. I know where Mos Pelgo is, so when we get closer to the place just let me know and I’ll change the course accordingly.”

Then he walks up to the speeder, maneuvers it so it’s more easy to exit the hangar with it and settles on the seat before looking towards Luke. Waiting.

Luke, who isn’t sure what he was expecting but knows that’s a thought to be saved for later, turns to Artoo, instructs him to help Peli with whatever she needs, and climbs on the speeder behind him. 

“We’ll be back soon,” the Mandalorian says to Peli, who has lost interest on them and is now holding up a scanner and approaching the ship.

“Sure,” she says, waving her free hand dismissively. “Travel safe, dusk is almost here.”

***

As the suns descend closer to the horizon Luke holds onto the man in front of him and closes his eyes for a moment. His fingers touch the edge of the beskar plates that protect his torso, the metal cold against his skin. To him, the traditional Mandalorian armor has always seemed more obtrusive than anything; too stiff, too heavy. But now, as the speeder bike accelerates across the barren landscape in the direction of the place he once called home, now, with something heavy building in his chest as he follows the path of choices and happenstances that brought him back here despite his resistance, the solid armor he’s holding onto feels grounding. The occasional bump of a pauldron against his shoulder and the brush of the helmet close to his cheek—they are like anchors to his thoughts. 

He taps his fingers against the beskar and the Mandalorian tilts his head minutely before slowing down. 

“It’s a little further past the mountains to the right,” Luke says, pointing. “And then—”

And then they should see it. Or not. In his mind, his childhood home remains the same, sometimes an unblemished white dome reflecting the sunlight, sometimes black with cinder and smoke billowing from it, endlessly. Maybe there’ll be nothing, maybe the sand people or jawas scoured the place and left it bare. 

Maybe. 

He clears his throat. “I’ll let you know,” he settles for saying. 

And there it is, worry and something else, warm and decisive, lighting up briefly from the Mandalorian in the Force. 

But he doesn’t say a word, merely nods, and they're off again.

***

At first, Luke thinks he must be wrong. The silhouette in the dark could be anything; rocks or… mostly rocks, if he’s being honest. But the almost perfect semicircular form of the structure makes that hard to believe. 

The Mandalorian slows the speeder until they stop a good distance away. 

“Is this it?” he asks.

Luke hands presses more tightly against the beskar, fingertips touching the crevices around the edge. 

“It is,” he says. “I… can you get closer?”

“Yeah.”

But then, Luke sees a small figure stepping out of the dome. Short and slight, moving with careful steps, a little girl walks under the fading light of the dusk. Since they’re not approaching from the direction the entrance of the dome faces, she doesn’t seem to have noticed them yet. 

“Stop,” Luke urges quickly, as all the feelings pooling in chest and the strong pull drawing him back to this place solidify with a single focus, a stark truth clearing his thoughts. “I’m such a fool.”

The Mandalorian halts again, straightening on his seat and forcing Luke to do the same. “There’s a kid.”

Luke nods, following the little girl with his eyes as she slowly takes a few more steps away, seemingly looking for something on the ground, her hand stretched out. 

“Yeah. And she’s force sensitive.” 

The Mandalorian turns to look at him over his shoulder. “That means… she’s like you?”

“Something like that, yes.” Luke gets off the speeder and the Mandalorian follows suit. “I didn’t know—this used to be my home. I thought what was drawing me back was… nostalgia, grief. I choose to ignore it. But I was wrong, there was a different reason.”

At that moment, another figure steps out of the dome. “Rena,” a woman’s voice reaches them across the silence. “Rena, come back in, I told you we would look again in the morning.”

She walks up to the girl and takes her hand, muterring soft words that they can’t catch. Then she turns to go back inside, which puts them right in her line of sight. She freezes for a second, but quickly moves to place herself in front of the kid. 

“Who goes there?” she calls, her voice stern and loud. 

Luke raises his hands in what he hopes is a placating manner. “I’m Luke,” he says, “I mean you no harm.”

“Don’t get any closer then.”

“Alright”, Luke agrees, hearing the Mandarloian also stop behind him. “Listen, I just want to talk.”

The woman takes a few steps forward, approaching the dome and keeping her eyes on them. “Go inside, Rena, and tell your mom we have visitors,” she instructs. The girl slips from behind her back and disappears into the entryway. “You want to talk, talk.”

Luke pauses, trying to decide how to start. 

Taking a breath, he slowly lowers his hands. “I used to live here,” he begins, noticing how she tenses when he reaches for his lightsaber. Slowly, he takes it and places it on the ground, making sure she can see there’s no other weapon on him. “With my aunt and uncle. When they passed away, I left the planet. There was nothing else for me here. But now, by chance, I had the opportunity to come by again and decided to pay this place a visit.” He looks past the entry dome, where he knows the living pit is. “Once, during a sand storm I didn’t cover one of the GX-8 vaporators properly and after that we never managed to get all the sand from the vents. It made an annoying rattling sound ever since, and I never heard the end of it.”

“That checks out,” says a different voice, and a new figure steps out of the dome. Another woman joins the first, stepping beside her. Luke can see the blaster strapped to her thigh. “But this is our home now. It has been for the past three years.”

“And I have no intention of taking it from you. I just want—”

“To talk, yes,” says the first woman. “You’ve been doing that.”

Luke pushes on. “About the girl. Rena.”

They immediately tense and he can feel the spike of protectiveness and confusion in the Force. “What about Rena?” the newcomer asks, her voice clipped.

“I’m a Jedi. My abilities allow me to sense others like me. Rena… she’s Force sensitive.”

“And you friend over there,” she asks, and Luke looks over his shoulder at the Mandalorian, who’s stayed quiet and observant. “Is he a Jedi too?”

“No, I’m not,” he answers, stepping forward to stand by Luke’s side. Then, mimicking Luke’s actions from before, he slowly takes his blaster and leaves it on the ground.

“Wait,” one of them says. “A mandalorian? Wasn’t a Mandalorian the one who killed the krayt dragon?”

Luke remembers the mentions of a dragon from Peli earlier and turns sharply to look at the man standing by his side. “You killed a krayt dragon?”

The Mandarlorian sighs. “It wasn’t just _me_ —”

“So it is you,” the woman repeats. 

“Yes.” 

The shift in the Force is a welcoming feeling. The tension slowly dissipates and he can see the posture of both women visibly relaxing. He almost laughs, but swallows it quickly. “Maybe I should’ve let you speak first,” he whispers to the Mandalorian.

He only receives a slight tilt of the helmet in response. 

*** 

Half an hour and an onslaught of buried memories later, Luke emerges from the entry dome and walks up to where the Mandalorian stands, leaning against the speeder. 

“I take it it went well?” he asks.

“Yes, I think so,” Luke answers.

After the required introductions and a few references about the krayt dragon that Luke kept missing, Brea and Nise, the girl’s mothers, invited them in to talk more comfortably, guarded from the chill of the night. The Mandalorian declined, choosing to stay outside, so Luke had followed them alone into the place he once called home. 

“We should go back,” the Mandalorian says.

“They offered us shelter for the night but—” he pulls his cloak tighter around himself, turning so the cold breeze doesn’t hit his face. “I don’t think I would’ve rested much. It still… it wasn’t easy to walk in there after so long.” 

The man nods, his shoulders dropping with a soft exhale. “I understand,” he says, and there’s something careful in his voice. Almost reverent. “I was foundling—the Mandalorians rescued me when my home planet was attacked by the Separatists. I’ve never gone back.”

Luke just looks at him, and wonders how many times he will be at loss for words in front of this man. His eyes fall momentarily on the pauldron with the mudhorn symbol, where the beskar catches the light from the stars and the shadows from the night. This man, who had lost so much and knew him so little but still was willing to offer a piece of himself as a symbol of understanding. A small comfort in the silence and the vastness surrounding them. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally. “And thank you, for coming with me. I—” He hesitates, not knowing if this question will be taken kindly. But the Mandalorian’s presence has been nothing but a warm comforting beacon in the force and Luke is tired of calling him by generic terms in his mind. And well. He trusts him, he just does. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what should I call you? I don’t… back in Nevarro, your friends called you ‘Mando’ but I don’t—”

“Din,” the Mandalorian cuts in, and Luke stops speaking. “My name is Din Djarin,” he finishes, looking at him for a quiet moment and then climbing onto the speeder. “I would… appreciate if you used that name sparsely. Not many are aware of it and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Luke smiles, the name echoing in his head.

 _Din_. 

It’s simple but unique. It suits him.

“This should be the part where I tell you I’m Luke Skywalker, but—”

“I already know that.”

“Exactly.” Luke looks up at the sky, at the stars and planets that seem so small from this distance, and he thinks of how Tatooine always seemed so big, even when he was far away. How it started weighing on his chest and his mind, how now that weight is gone and in the calm he can finally enjoy the familiar sight of the distant dunes outlined far away. When he looks towards Din, he finds his gaze fixed on him already. “You know,” he begins, stepping up to get on the speeder behind him, “my sister told me that Mandalorians and Jedis used to be enemies.” He settles his hands on Din’s sides, his fingers touching the edges of the beskar armor. “I wonder why.”

“Yeah,” Din says as he turns the ignition of the speeder on. “I wonder too.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the outline of this chapter said: "They gotta share a speeder bike to get there, because of course they do."
> 
> Hey! I wanna thank everyone who read, commented, left kudos and bookmarked. It really helped me work through the writer's block that came along shortly after posting the first chapter (great timing, I know). 
> 
> I'll try to not take too long to update. But honestly I don't know what's best, shorter chapters and more updates or fewer updates and longer chapters? Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Anyway, comments are always very much appreciated. I'd love to know what your thoughts on this chapter are! 
> 
> (And, to end this, a warning: when I say slow burn, I mean it. This is gonna take some time. But they'll get there, I promise.)


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